


Proving Him Wrong

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Series: Flash Sale Sep 2018 [13]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Bonding, F/M, Femdom, Fun and Games, Team games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: You claim that you're able to identify your colleagues just by holding their hands. Thermite calls your bluff.





	Proving Him Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baysian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baysian/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Proving Him Wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141283) by [baysian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baysian/pseuds/baysian)



You regret ever telling Marius that you’re good at identifying people even with your eyes closed. The German is like a dog with a bone in the way he keeps digging – can you identify them without their voice? Any audio cues? Can you identify them by touching only their hand? By the time he finishes, he’s gathered a veritable crowd, including your overly curious lover.

“Really? Can you tell people apart just by touching them?” Jack pops his head over the crowd. Several voices chime in, asking if you could and how that was possible if they all had the same callouses and with no verbal or audio cues. Smell wouldn’t help much when the smell of hard work (read: sweat) permeates the air in the rec room.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back and explain. It’s not just smell and touch, it’s how an individual holds their hands, how firm or gentle their grip is, if they have a watch or any other accessories, the texture of their skin. Jack, Marius and Jordan start to bicker over your head, disputing whether it is possible to do such a thing.

In a fit of pique at how the entire debate it’s going, Jordan huffs and suggests that they test whether you can, in fact, recognise people just by touching their hands. That should solve it. You and the lot squabble and squabble and Jordan eventually throws up his hands and proposes a bet. Loser does the most ridiculous dance they can think of.

By this point, you’re pretty much ready to slap them all over the head so you agree with a vehemence that fires up the competitive side of all your colleagues. A couple of the teams agree that it’s entirely possible, while others shake their head and say you’re bluffing. Eventually, four entire CTUs get involved and split themselves up, facing the other with venomous glares and folded arms. Briefly, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, but it’s soon wiped by Jordan’s sudden appearance before you.

He grins sharply and holds his arms akimbo, declaring the beginning of the games. The first person to correctly identify 10 people in a row wins. And if you can’t do that, they’re going to rag on you for as long as they can remember.

You huff and turn your nose up, accepting the blindfold with a confident aura. Ten? This will be easy.

The first is easy; Meghan cares for her nails almost obsessively, ensuring that they’re always well-manicured with her cuticles pushed back. It doesn’t take you long before you call out her name, weathering her surprised swear before she’s pushed aside and someone else puts their hands in yours.

This time it’s a bit more confusing as there are little patches of glassy skin on their fingers, contrasting sharply with their sandy-feeling palm. It’s Masaru, you think because his hands are distinctly masculine in contrast to Emmanuelle, who also tends to use a tig welder but has longer, more slender fingers.

You hear muttering and worried grumbling from the men as you identify the next pair of hands as Gustave’s within a split second of touching them. No other soldier has as gentle and firm a touch as the doctor. You can practically hear Jordan pouting as you explain your reasoning out loud and you grin toothily. Surely they can’t possibly think you’re lying about this ability?

More and more hands are shoved into yours and you identify them all after several seconds, though it does get harder as you go along. Seamus has huge bear hands but doesn’t have hair on the backs of his hands. Dominic’s hands are twitchy and he can’t seem to stay still, the echoes of his fidgeting body coming through his hands. Adriano is like a blast furnace and has prominent veins that run beside his knuckles. Ryad has large hands but they’re almost too skinny and bony for their size.

At one point, the hands you touch startle you and you blurt out, “Six? What the hell?” At that point, your boss just laughs and pats your shoulder before sauntering out, her heels now clicking on the tiles in contrast to her earlier silent approach. She must have taken her shoes off before approaching you.

Marius is grumbling loudly by now, impressed but disgruntled at your success in identifying your cohort without fail. Then he declares that this will be a real challenge, and you wonder who he’ll put before you. A pair of hands slide into yours when his sentence ends, the familiar scent of burnt metal, singed hair, and chemicals fill your nose and you almost call out Jordan’s name from instinct. But then the hands that cover your palms are a little different, burn scars covering a different area and feeling ever so alien in your grasp. You know it’s not Jordan, but scramble to think of who it can be.

Vicente dabbles in fire and chemicals but these hands are too smooth, too hairless. Maybe Shuhrat? No, these hands aren’t as broad. Erik then, with the burns from his blowtorch but with the hands of a pianist. Erik rumbles in satisfaction and laughs, patting your hand. Jordan, on the other hand, grumbles loudly and pouts audibly; he really didn’t expect you to get it right considering he and Erik’s builds are incredibly similar.

Laughing, you shake your head at him and wonder aloud where his faith in you went. Mild cheering goes up in the rec room; no one doubts your ability now, but if you nail this last one, they’ll be impressed.

Two hands are placed in yours and immediately you laugh. It’s two entirely different people but you step up to the challenge. The mixing of two different scents swirl around you – fire and ash and something like electricity. Feeling two different hands are confusing you a little; you can’t decide who to focus on. One was warm, the other noticeably colder. Both calloused on the palms and fingertips, both with burn scars and raspy, sandy palms. But then as your hands close around their wrists, one relaxes and the other tenses. And that’s when you - something comes up and tickles you on the nose. Taken aback, you swat it away and laugh when you hear your lover’s mischievous giggle.

“Jordan, did you put moisturiser on your hands today?” You tease him and caress his palm surreptitiously with your thumb. The other hand you let go quickly but respectfully; it’s impressive that Chul Kyung even let you hold his hand at all.

Your boy laughs in defeat and helps you take off your blindfold, holding his hands up in defeat. “Shit, you’re good! And yes, I did use some moisturiser – some of yours, in fact!” He weathers a light slap from you. So that’s the weird flowery undertone to his fire and ash. Still, he acknowledges he lost with a dramatic flair, hands in his hair and falling down to his knees.

He takes his ribbing with good humour, saying that if you can recognise Six’s hands, you’re not one to be messed with. That woman does not allow anyone to touch her. But he’s soon distracted from his loss when Jack and the others start to discuss exactly how you were so accurate. He bickers and boasts that you’re just so familiar with him that you were obviously going to identify him no matter what.

Beside him, you just watch him babble and argue with a fond look in your eye. Jordan is such a handful, but you won’t have him any other way.

OMAKE:

“Did you forget your punishment, Jordan?”

The operative knows you’re talking about the forfeit, but damn if a flash of heat doesn’t surge through him at the word ‘punishment’.

“I’ll bet he was looking forward to that,” Mike quips snidely, though he definitely isn’t referring to the embarrassing dance that Jordan’s about to perform.

Jordan, on the other hand, takes a bracing breath and widens his stance, puffing his chest. “Saddle up boys,” he deepens his southern drawl. “Cue the music!”

You’ve only ever heard of this dance but seeing it in person is far funnier than you ever expected. To the tune of the cheesy music, Jordan starts dancing the Jack Rabbit Twist, his serious expression making everyone bend over in laughter. Despite his furious blush, the man just keeps going and going until the music ends, and then he finally collapses due to embarrassment.


End file.
